URLtv - B Magic vs Ill Will [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Round 1: B MAGIC]
Ill Will, the 106 & Park man
Slash the regular trash 106 & Park nigga
Magic’s ya killer with this 32, I'm a star sinner
So if it’s beef is a wrap like a tortilla
Midget with an attitude; I got a short temper
Either you get jaw bender or I paw print ya
You better wear a vest to the ring like Dolph Ziggler
Or get the metal round Will like a car fender
I’m from the hood, you call it the Slum Slum
But never been that broke to dump guns for hun buns
But for the cake the lil niggas where I come from
Will choke you up for them jewels you better run, son
It’s too late to pack them up once I plug Will. You doubt that?
Let’s see if this pussy nigga about that
Take dawg out for this shit; that’s a house pet
Send bad niggas in ya crib; that’s a houseguest
[crowd noise]…if feeling out some kind of chump
All of this aggression, I assume that your not a punk
D.C. sniper shit, got lil’ niggas poppin’ trunks
Hit the switch and lift Will up with this hydraulic pump
If I give him 8 bet his chin will break […] that’s a triple play
You choke against the Roc? Smack, who is this nigga? Triple H
Nigga pray, or you can get your whole cap Crystal Lake'd
Whoever helped write for Will help him write his will
You like for real, why? You the nigga that bore me
I turn around and let it fly on any nigga that saw me
Shawn Carter with this Glock; I’m still spittin’ at 40
In the car you fucked his moms in; that's a mothership?
Suck a dick, you got these people thinking you’re fuckin’ sick
I guess you on some other shit, 40 got a rubber grip
I peel those cases over his face, I'ma smother shit
Real nigga, I got leaders that’ll follow you
You’ll wake up buried in a box like Gothika
Come to me and see the heat rise like thermometers
I’m a star with this blue flag like Somalia
I will body ya, end another hater
[crowd noise] pull off in the peanut butter…[unclear]
I send him to his maker, Magic even hit the neighbors
Just to get my point across like the ending of a prayer
Hit him with the fifth, get it if you trip
Boot Will like it’s unpaid tickets on the whip
I’m ridiculous with this shit, Magic let the 9 spit
Give Will the chrome and I ain’t tryna get my ride pimped
See some niggas don’t know it’s drama till the gun fire
I just call it how I see it; I’m the umpire
I’m in ya hood nigga hoping that I run by ya
In Pontiac with the 5th like I’m a drunk driver
Big dusty ass nigga
Tell him calm down before I bomb that nigga
Another conceited reject I got a palm, that nigga slow it down, you speed it up, we got a Con/Yak nigga
I say pour out some liquor for him, he ain’t get the picture
The tall can open up but that 5th a licker
I got my killer, I don’t play by the shells
Clips hang out by the MACs like Saved By The Bell

[Round 1: ILL WILL]
Shut yo' punchline bitch ass up. I mean we all like punch lines but it ain’t that often we need the shit
That’s why niggas want you to go battle Lil Mama
I mean Conceited, shit
But it’s Ill Will in this bitch, listen here
When I run up on Magic I got something that’ll make him disappear. Ya’ll ain’t feeling that? That wasn’t hot shit?
Then why the fuck was ya’ll gassing
To Don Demarco in Roc shit?
He another Kerr. I’m sick as fuck, he bitchin’ up
I run upon him and his mans with that pistol tucked
Like, "give it up! Is you just talkin’ that dope or is you holdin’ that brick or what?"
When that steel blow that’s a double dildo
Both of you bitches fucked!
They say Ill, when you see Magic you gotta do him rough
I say man, he gon’ catch all these clips like a movie buff
When the Yak nigga ask you what’s the problem
Do not answer
You can catch all these cigs till you got cancer
Big things shootin’ out big dummies like Lamont Sanford
Fella please, quit tellin’ these people you committin’ felonies
And you hella deep
You just talk about that war; you Tel Aviv
I'll hit this big bitch with that big can like Della Reese
Now bring it back
Cause he say he the big dawg but he hardly bite
He talk gun-busting, but he hardly fight, but my army strike
So when that black thing stu-stu stutter
It ain’t the boxer trying to hail a cab on a Harlem night
Somebody spitting that dope, bring that spoon here
Comfortable anywhere, keep them goons near
Went from PG to BET to Summer Madness 3
What are these top tiers doing here?
It’s ironic cause it’s wintertime
But I’m just heating up since June’s here
Attacking with the MAC, once I blast him it’s a wrap
3 shots will get B tre'd like I stabbed him in the back
Magic ain’t dumpin’ no fucking heat, he a fucking geek
He got y’all so fooled till I run in the crib with that bird
He won’t come out the room like Uncle Pete
But as far as these niggas, they incredible
No, they not incredible, wait
They got an incredible trait to be incredibly fake
But my credibility alone
Lets you niggas know my credit is great
Fuck it, let’s really go punch-for-punch, we can make it go viral
I will bring pain to your idol
I ain’t like none of you niggas, I’m just taking your title
He ain’t slanging shit. Last time we seen Magic with a bird was game 7 of the ’84 finals
But me and my niggas, connected like Italians
So let this newby know
I had that thing pointing at his head like Coolio
Knock out his brains like the tooly though
They’ll see Magic everywhere
They won’t know if it’s a crime scene or a David Blaine studio
You think I give a fuck who he hang with
Or question do he spray clips?
I watched the fat faggot nigga son you in the Lou
Your movement ain’t shit
Y’all a bunch of crime fighters on bowel movements
Y’all on some super gay shit
But as far as my niggas we’ll make a mess with this shit
I tell them clean it up, the disinfecting shit
I don’t respect your clique
Me and my niggas vesting shit
Still crawling through rice fields that’ll send bullets in Crips shins like hidden messengers
I thought I was gone choke nigga
What you do to a nigga that punchline? Rope-a-dope nigga